Harry Potter and the Parody of Plots
by captainwhiteshadow
Summary: All the terrible plots and challenges you've ever read, from Harry being descended from the Four Founders and inheriting lots of babes and cash, to Blaise Zabini being mistaken for a girl. All right here bashed into one fanfic. Enjoy! WARNING: rated for naughty language and...stuff...idk, just beware.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Frankly, I don't own most of these craptastic plots, and I don't know who first came up with them, but they're fun to make fun of. Enjoy!**

**Harry Potter and the Parody of Plots**

**Chapter 1: Betrayal, Dumbledork, Sexiness, and Money (BDSM)**

Harry James Potter awoke to the tapping of Hedwig's beak on his windowsill. Still groggy and drained from last night's Angst-A-Thon 1996, he lazily reached for his glasses, accidentally knocked them off his desk, screamed, "Fuck glasses!" and pulled a gun out from beneath his mattress and shot his glasses. He then remembered he was a wizard, and he magically fixed his eyesight, conveniently ignoring the No Underage Magic rule.

The sound of twelve hippos and a baby elephant came rushing up the stairs and banged on his door. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT BOY?!"

"Just the sound of me blowing a load in your wife's ass, Uncle Vernon," was Harry's reply.

"Oh, okay...WELL MAKE ME BREAKFAST!" And the sumo wrestler of a man wobbled back downstairs.

Harry rolled his eyes and went to the window to let Hedwig in. His beautiful snowy white owl had brought him two letters, one from the Burrow and one from Gringotts. He excitedly opened and read the one from the Burrow first.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hate you and it's all your fault Sirius died. We got injured at the Department of Mysteries because you made us go with you. Hermione hates you too._

_Hope you die,_

_Ron_

_P.S. Fuck you._

Harry couldn't believe what he'd just read. His teeth clenched in fury. "How dare that bastard accuse me of getting him hurt! He and all the rest of the DA wanted to come with me! Well fine, he and that smelly bag of twats Hermione can have each other. I'm not going to really talk to them about this or investigate their complete 180 behavior change because if five years of friendship means nothing to them, then it means nothing to me, and we need to get this plot moving along anyway."

He ripped open the next letter, the one from Gringotts.

_Dear Lord Potter,_

_We are sending you this message via your own personal owl instead of one of our bank owls because she just happened to stop by for unexplained reasons and we decided to hell with legal protocol, because we be goblinz and that's how we roll._

_It has come to our attention that you have not read your parents will or that of your godfather Sirius Black. This is because Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore has interfered on several occasions and tampered with the wills, right in front of us, and we just happened to be playing poker and jacking off to Antique Roadshow at the time, so we didn't notice. That old bastard has also kept you in the dark about many things, including your heritage, which we know all about since along with being good with money and finances, goblins all have PhDs in genealogy—Why, you ask? Just for shits and giggles, that's why. We at Gringotts are proudly biased and like to side with one customer out of millions for no particular reason, so that's why we decided to do a full military-grade background check on Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, all for your sake._

_This letter is also a Portkey that will take you directly to Gringotts. The Potter and Black will readings will be held as soon as you get here, and we will also tell you of your blood heritage._

_Sincerely,_

_The only goblin you know, Griphook_

Harry's anger soared. "Damn you Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! You'll pay for your lies and manipulations!" He grasped the letter firmly in his hands and said, "Take me to Gringotts!"

And with a pop, Harry arrived at Gringotts. He went to the front desk, explained the situation, and he was led to a back room. Sitting at a fancy oak desk with gold and silver embedded in it was Griphook, who had apparently been promoted from underpaid desk lackey to Potter Vault account manager.

"Ah, Lord Potter, it's good to see you again," Griphook said.

Harry bowed and said in Gobbledegook, "May your gold always flow and your enemies fall before you."

Griphook was stunned, to say the least. "Why, Lord Potter, where did you learn to speak the goblin language and greet us in the traditional goblin way?"

Harry shrugged. "Oh, well, you know, I was bored so I decided to do some research on the language, just in case a situation like this ever occurred."

Griphook eyed him suspiciously. "Where did you do this research? You're stuck at home with your magic-hating abusive muggle relatives all day, so you couldn't have gone into Magical London to buy a book on it."

Harry eyed him equally suspiciously. "How did you know I live with muggles and they abuse me?"

They both stared each other down for a long time, neither even batting an eyelash.

Finally, Griphook said, "Let's just get down to business, shall we?"

"Yes, let's."

"So, Lord Potter—"

Harry cut him off, smiling. "Please, call me Harry."

"No."

"Okay."

Griphook began again, "So, Lord Potter, according to your parents' wills, which I won't bother reading as they're so damn long and you probably wouldn't want to hear your loved ones' last words anyway, you now own Potter Mansion, Potter Castle, Potter Cabin, Potter Beach House, Club Potter, Diagon Alley, Microsoft, the Internet, Dunkin Donuts, Pizza Hut, Godric's Hollow (though you don't actually own it because it's a historical site and the Ministry claimed dominance by jizzing all over it), and 874,235,408,275,408,725,040 Galleons, plus numerous jewels, ancient magical artifacts, and hundreds of books on spells.

"From Sirius Black you own Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Black Manor, the Darker than Black anime, Knocturne Alley, a black man's rights and family, Black Strip Club, Black Beard's pirate ship, 50% of Macintosh, and the Playwizard Mansion."

Harry was silent for a long time. He then shrugged, taking it all in stride, "Cool. Anything else?"

"Why yes, in fact, as Head of two Most Ancient and Noble houses you are now considered an adult and can use magic outside of school—I know, fuckin' rad, right? You also have several marriage contracts, and because you're the last member of the Potter family, some prehistoric wizarding law called the Family Restoration Act is going to be enacted, meaning you can have a harem," Griphook said.

"What?!" Harry yelled. "That fucking sucks! What guy would ever want that? It's completely degrading to women!"

"Ah, but will they agree? Most of them seem to be in love with you, even though during all your time at Hogwarts you've never met most of them, or have hardly said more than two words to them."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Now how the hell would you—you know what, nevermind, I don't even wanna know. Who are all these girls anyway?"

Griphook smiled wickedly, showing off a full set of razor sharp teeth. "Who said they were all girls?"

All the color drained from Harry's face.

Griphook then laughed loudly, smacking his fist on the table. "Ah, I'm just screwin' with you, kid! No, but let's get down to business." He pulled out a long roll of parchment and began to read, "You, Harry James Potter, are now married—effective immediately and without your consent—to Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Cho Chang, Daphne Greengrass, Su Li, Tracey Davis, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Padma Patil, Parvati Patil, Luna Lovegood, a giant penis, Lavender Brown—"

"Wait, what was that last one?" Harry cut in.

"Lavender Brown."

"No, before that."

"Luna Lovegood."

"After that."

"Lavender Brown."

Harry smacked his head and sighed in frustration. "Nevermind."

Griphook cleared his throat and continued with the list. An hour later, Griphook finally finished and looked up from the list at the Boy-Who-Lived, who had fallen asleep on the table. "Lord Potter!"

"Release the hounds!" a groggy Harry yelled as he shot back up in his seat.

"Ahem, I am finished reading the marriage contracts, Lord Potter," Griphook announced. "Any questions?"

Harry stared blankly on ahead. "I'm gonna need a lot of condoms and Redbull, aren't I?"

"You're gonna need a new pelvis every month, Lord Potter."

"Right. So, you mentioned something about my blood heritage...?"

Griphook pulled open one of his drawers and retrieved a piece of parchment and a golden quill. Harry shat himself on the spot and screamed bloody murder. Griphook raised an eyebrow. "Something the matter, Lord Potter?"

White as a sheet, Harry stuttered, "T-t-t-t-t-that's a b-b-blo...blood..."

"A blood quill?"

Harry fainted like a bitch.

An hour later, Harry woke up, good as new, and happily consented to write his name down on the parchment in blood, as if nothing was wrong. When he was finished, his name sunk into the parchment—much like it did when Harry wrote in Tom Riddle's diary—and reappeared seconds later with several new names written down as well as everything Griphook had previously went over, which would've saved a lot of time if he had just done this in the first place.

Harry James Potter

_ANCESTORS:_

_James Potter_

_Lily Potter_

_Ignotus Peverell_

_Merlin Emrys_

_Morgana le Fae_

_Nicholas Flamel_

_Godric Gryffindor_

_Helga Hufflepuff_

_Rowena Ravenclaw_

_Salazar Slytherin (because you kicked one of his hundreds of descendants' ass)_

_Isaac Fawkes_

_Charlie Sheen_

_Bill O'Reilly_

_Satan_

_VAULT INCOME:_

_Pi x infinity_

_MARRIAGE CONTRACTS:_

_If you don't get pussy, then I'm God_

Harry was right and truly gobsmacked. When he finally picked his jaw up off the floor, he worriedly asked with tears in his eyes, "Wait, I'm related to the Devil?"

Griphook patted him on the back, "I feel your pain kid, I wouldn't want to be related to Bill O'Reilly either."

Harry took a deep breath and stood. "Well, Griphook, thank you for today. I've learned a lot, but I need to go home now and think." He placed his right hand over his heart, shaping it like a claw. "May your blade stay sharp, and your enemies bleed rubies!"

Griphook raised an eyebrow. "The fuck does that mean?"

Harry blinked. "Um...I thought that was the traditional goblin goodbye."

"Yeah...in like, the Medieval Ages. We're a little more civilized than that now, _thank you _very much," Griphook stated firmly with a cold glare.

Harry scratched the back of his head and chuckled nervously. "Oh, uh, yeah, my bad. I guess the book I read was pretty old...do you mind telling me what you say nowadays?"

"Certainly!" Griphook said with a razor-sharp smile. He then whipped out his 8 foot long spiked cock and started whackin' it. "May you never run out of babies to boil alive, and virgin women to exsanguinate."

Harry then decided he'd been sufficiently scarred for life that day, and switched to Bank of America. Even though he's British.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Escaping A/N Hell**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat at his desk, enjoying a lemon drop and a blowjob from five house-elves, when all of a sudden...

_RINGASINGBINGBANGBOOGABRIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEZZZERKLA P!_

"What the bloody goddamn hell was that?!" Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore screamed as he jumped in his seat, accidentally thrusting his hips forward and impaling five house-elves at once...(think that one through).

He looked at the silver instruments located all around the office, and his eyes widened in alarm when he saw that they were glowing bright red and shaking, indicating that the Blood Wards he'd illegally erected **(Annoying A/N: LOLzors, erected LIEK A P3NIS!)** around the Dursley's house had fallen for some reason.

"NOOOOO! That stupid boy, what has he done now?! FAWKES!" He called his phoenix familiar—whom he had illegally bound to him with dark magic—to his arm, and together they fire-warped (er...flash-fire? flame-transport? The hell do you call that anyway?) to Harry's house.

When they got to Number 4 Pivot Drive, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's jaw dropped. "Holy shitbiscuits..." **(Annoying A/N: How do you think shitbiscuits taste, anyway?)**

Where Number 4 Pivot Drive had existed was now a smoldering pile of ashes with the skeletons of two African elephants and a giraffe...oh, wait, no, that was just the Dursleys. The place reeked of dark magic...and feces... Why did the place smell of feces?

Looking closer, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore noticed a message smeared on the sidewalk in some sort of brown substance. It read: _Haha! Wittle Alby-poo was too late to save the filthy muggles. Wittle Potty will be next! - Bellatrix._ **(Annoying A/N: Ah, that crazy whackadoo Bellatrix is at it again! Because you didn't know that. This message is completely necessary for you to understand the deeper complexities of this story.)**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Only a spastic retard like Bellatrix would have written a message in her own shite. But this whole mess has ruined many of my plans. Without the Dursleys to protect him while simultaneously beating the living hell out of Harry—wouldn't want the kid to grow up with some sort of personality disorder, like being proud of himself—Harry is in extreme danger. Also, he could get ideas about becoming independent of me, and that just won't do. I need him if I am to conduct my secret evil plans to have him sacrifice himself to weaken Voldemort while I deliver the finishing blow and become a hero once again for being the defeater of not one, but TWO Dark Lords, thus gaining enough fame for me to relive my glory days!" **(Annoying A/N: In case it's not obvious, Dumbledore is evil in this fic. Just thought you should know. Unnecessary lolz.)**

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore? Who are you talking to?" Fawkes asked.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore blinked. "Fawkes? I didn't know you could talk."

"I can't. You've just gained a level up to your insanity status. Good work, keep going and soon enough you'll be running stark naked through London singing to Chumbawumba."

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore cringed. "Fawkes, even I don't want to see that." **(Annoying A/N: Neither do I. FYI.)**

And with that, the elderly wizard and his bound familiar fire-warped back to Hogwarts. **(Annoying A/N: I'm a tumor I'm a tumor I'm a tumor I'm a tumor I'm a tumor I'm a tumor.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Snape Dies**

Severus Snape blinked. "Wait, what did you name this chap—"

Suddenly, Harry Apparated into the Potion Master's livingroom, shoved a stick of dynamite up his ass, and lit that fucker up like the Fourth of July. The explosion was heard all the way from Hong Kong, but Harry protected himself with the basilisk hide armor he'd had specially crafted for him a week ago after he Apparated into Hogwarts, caught himself doing it on film, took the basilisk he'd slain from the Chamber of Secrets, Apparated to Gringotts and had the goblins (who also had PhDs in taxidermy) turn the basilisk's skin into armor, and then Apparated to Hermione's house, showed her the video of him Apparating into Hogwarts, laughed at her dumbfounded expression and bitch-slapped her, had kinky Discovery Channel-style buttsechs with her, and then lit up a cigar and took a limo back to Number 12 Grimmauld place to plan his attack on Snape. This was truly the most beautiful moment of his life.

Suddenly, Aurors and the new Minister for Magic, Amelia Bones, barged into the house and had their wands pointed at him.

"Harry Potter! Why have you killed Severus Snape? Explain, or be arrested!" Minister Bones ordered.

"He mocked me in school."

"Oh, okay, he deserved to die then," Minister Bones replied. "Harry James Potter, you are hereby given an Order of Merlin First Class, plus a reward of 342,187,638,017,580,341,750,831 Galleons, and you now own all of Snape's properties and possessions. You're a true hero, sir. We are not worthy!"

Harry raised a hand. "Calm your tits, Minister, all is well. You may go now."

Minister Bones and her fellow Aurors bowed and left.


End file.
